Jolted out
by Kegel
Summary: Greg undergoes what he never wanted to, but always feared to do. GregSara
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI or any of its characters.

**Summary: **Greg undergoes what he never wanted to, but always feared to do. GregSara 

**A/N: **A short story out of a mood. Probably a one-shot.

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**Jolted out**

Greg did not know if he had sensed before that something was wrong. You always had this feeling afterwards that you somehow had known before, had somehow sensed a bad feeling.

There did not seem to be anything different, anything wrong when he opened the door to Sara's apartment. The first thing that was odd was that there was no light. He could not see any light that was on.

It had always been the first assuring sign when he had arrived home. He had opened the door and then he would glance into the direction of the living room searching for the light and being assured by it that Sara was there, waiting for him.

It was one of these days when Sara should have been home earlier than Greg. And on all these days she would be waiting for him.

But when he arrived on this day, there was no light. It was completely dark in the apartment.

Greg felt the worry coming up, only from the absence of the light. His reason immediately jumped in and came up with several explanations.

Sara was definitely at home. Greg knew it somehow in the back of his head that she was. There had probably been something in the hall that had told him so.

He walked through the flat, needing seemingly awfully long to reach the bedroom.

He opened the door like in slow motion, stepping into the room, searching the darkness with his eyes.

He could not move, apparently could not even breathe. He felt as if he was standing there staring for hours, unable to move nearer to what met his eyes.

He could not feel his body, his head was swimming.

Then from one to the other second he was able to stumble forward, plunging onto the bed, next to the form that was lying on there, twisted in an odd angle, eyes open, but unmoving.

Greg trembled harder than he ever had done before, when he reached out to Sara.

He touched her throat gently, searching for a sign of life. He was waiting for the sign, but beginning slowly to realize that there was none, that the only pounding was coming from him.

He looked into her eyes, something he had avoided to do so far and they told him even more clearly that there was no life anymore.

Greg trembled, sobbing, noticing now the tears that had been coming up since he had entered the room. He looked around wildly, almost out of his mind.

He thought his heart stopped when he spotted a large pillow lying only a few feet away from Sara's body.

Like in trance he reached for it, forgetting everything he had learned about not touching evidence. He starred at it, noticing a white substance on one side of it. Dried saliva. Then he saw the slots that had been caused by fingernails being pressed forcefully into the pillow.

For seemingly endless seconds Greg starred at the pillow in his hands remembering the case when a similar pillow had been used as the murder weapon, when he had discovered similar traces on the pillow, when he had pretended playfully to smother Sara, and a smile had played on her lips.

Greg gazed at the pillow in shock, finally turning his head back to Sara. There was no smile on her face now, an expression that had been the aim of almost all his actions in her presence.

It was fear, pure fear he saw in her expression now, though her eyes were empty. Dead. The smile would never come back.

Greg sobbed again heavily, feeling as if he himself was choking. He wrapped his arms around Sara desperately, shuddering when he felt the cold of her body. He pressed her against him, as if warming her would bring her back, his feverish body a contrast to her ice-cold one.

Greg trembled and sweated, finally sitting up abruptly, opening his eyes. He was panting heavily and looked around wildly, like he had done only some minutes earlier.

Sara was still lying next to him, the pillow dropped next to her. Her eyes were still open. What was different was that there was life in them now, that a smile was on her face now, when she was looking at Greg, and that she felt warm, when he wrapped his arms around her relieved.

Sara placed a soft kiss on his forehead, looking slightly worried now.

"You alright?" she asked whispering.

Greg nodded almost not seeable. "Yeah."

He embraced her a little tighter. "You're still with me."

"Of course I am."

Greg loosened his hold on her a little, looking at her. She felt warm but looked pale, even paler than usual. He saw her smiling and reached over to her to stroke her hair. He saw his hand touching her hair; only he did not feel it. He continued stroking her softly but finally stopped.

He started trembling again. "I can't feel you," he said, slightly panicking now. "I see you but I don't feel you."

Sara did not answer but kept smiling the smile Greg loved so much.

She seemed to become even paler now and when Greg blinked, she was gone, leaving him behind in shock.

This time Greg woke up screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them. Nothing new there.

**A/N: **Wow, that was difficult to upload that with dial-up. Kudos to all who do that regularly.

Uh, yeah. Obviously it's no one-shot after all.**  
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**Chapter 2 **

Greg cried out when he was waking up, sitting up quickly, but regretting it immediately. His head was swimming and the world – or what little he could see of it in the darkness - seemed to turn around him.

He let himself slowly sink back down in the bed, noticing that he was in his own bed, in his own apartment, not in Sara's.

He buried his face in his hands that now partly covered his heavily aching head, the impressions of his dreams coming back. Sara's empty eyes. The pillow.

Greg tried to calm down, feeling his heart beating in an unreasonable speed. He tried to sort the chaos in his head, trying to distinguish between real memories and memories of a nightmare.

The nightmare. Pure fear in Sara's face.

Greg rubbed his forehead. He could still see the image of Sara lying in front of him, dead, murdered. The image seemed so real and he thought that he could still feel the coldness he had felt when he had touched her.

Then he had woken up and she had been alive. Only she had just been … Greg searched for an expression …a ghost. Just like one.

Greg shook his head, trying to bring some clearness into his head. Had it been real? Had he really found Sara dead?

No, he had been sleeping. He must have.

He sat up again, slowly this time. Had it been real and he had just dreamt, no nightmared, that it had only been a bad dream?

He breathed out slowly. He had to be rational.

He had just dreamt. Nothing of it was real.

He looked around in his bedroom, now beginning to wonder why he was actually there. Why was he not at Sara's?

The answer dawned on him slowly. With a little pity that was coming up, he realized that the first part of his nightmare, that one when he had come home, to _their _home, had only been a dream as well.

They were not together. That was the simply truth and he had only dreamt of her like he had done so many times before.

His dream of Sara had turned into a nightmare of Sara and though he was thoroughly relieved and happy that he had only been sleeping, dreaming, that it had not been reality, he also felt a disappointment that he actually did not feel for the first time since they knew each other.

Greg frowned, another thought hitting him.

He got out of his bed carefully, as he was still a little giddy, and made his way into the kitchen slowly, the cold tiles under his feet convincing him to be awake this time. He checked the time and his schedule twice, confirming what he had thought: He should be working right now.

He frowned again. Try as he might he could not remember what had happened before he had gone to bed. And he could find no reasonable explanation why he had missed to go to work. And why nobody had called him.

Shaking his head, he made his way to his phone, trying to come up with a good excuse why he was not at work that he could tell Grissom. He dialed the number of his boss and waited for him to pick up.

When he heard the familiar voice at the other end of the line, he immediately started in an excusing tone. "Hey, Grissom. I'm sorry that I'm not in. I must have-."

Grissom cut him off. "Greg, are you okay?"

Greg frowned. "Yeah, sure…," forgetting for a moment his aching head, including the giddiness.

Grissom sighed. "Greg, you're not supposed to be working. You are off tonight…after what has happened-."

Greg did not hear what Grissom was saying next, as he let the phone sink weakly. _After what has happened…_

Greg did not hear the distant voice of Grissom coming from the phone anymore, switching it off absently. In the same manner he made his way back into his bedroom, letting himself sink onto the bed.

He shook his head. It could not be real. He had only dreamt it, he must have.

It had not happened that he had come home to find Sara dead.

It had not happened that he had clung to her cold body.

He could not remember that he had still managed to call Grissom, although sobbing heavily.

He could not remember that they had finally come and separated him from Sara, that they had tried to ask him questions, but failing because he was not able to answer a single one, that Catherine had driven him to his apartment, that she had made sure that he went to bed to get some rest.

That was what would have happened, if… but he could not remember that it had, therefore it had not, Greg told himself stubbornly.

But Grissom had just confirmed it had.

**TBC **

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A/N: **If I don't get at least a hundred reviews that tell me to stop, I will continue! evil laugh


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Me owns nothing.

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews.

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**Chapter 3**

Greg did not know how long he had been sitting there, before he finally laid down, falling into a light slumber. His sleep was dreamless this time and it was only the ringing of the doorbell that woke him up again.

He opened his eyes, noticing that the sun was already rising outside, filling his bedroom with a soft light that made the fears and happenings of the last night seem unreal and far away. He closed his eyes again, disregarding the ringing, delving into his own thoughts.

It rang again and Greg still ignored it. He refused to get up, although he knew that he could not stay so forever, but for now he was doing fine with it, or as fine as one could expect in his situation, losing himself in memories of Sara.

_The coldness of her body – it reminded him how cold her hands had often been. How he had taken her hands in his then, as he could not help rubbing them to warm them up, Sara laughing at it. _

A third ringing made him feel irritated. Could they not leave him alone?

He sat up slowly, taking in the soft light that was coming from outside. He wondered how long it was actually ago that… he had found Sara. From all he could tell it could be days ago… or had it had happened just last night?

He buried his head under his pillow. If it had not been for Grissom's confirmation Greg would have known nothing. He did not know. As if he wanted to know.

He wondered why he had those remembrances of shared moments with Sara. The memories seemed far too real to be only a part of his nightmares.

His memory was a mess, his head still hurting as if something wanted to get out of it with force and the only clear thought that floated between everything was that Sara was gone.

When the bell rang yet another time, Greg jumped finally up. He hoped to bring it behind him quickly, knowing he could not avoid it in the long run. He staggered slightly, the dizziness not gone yet.

He made his way to the door of his apartment, pulling it open quickly, then stopping dead, starring outside.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost," Sara said slightly amused, a smile playing on her lips.

Greg, lost for words, struggling against the temptation to just hug her tightly, simply stepped back to let her in.

She walked inside and he closed the door before following her. She turned around, looking at him.

Greg starred at her for a short moment, before he suddenly turned around and hasted into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. His head felt as if it was going to explode, a new wave of dizziness washing over him.

Greg just made it to the toilet in time before he had to throw up. Tears were coming up now and when the puking ended he leaned against the bathing tube, crying now, unlike he had done during all the hours before.

Sara was knocking at the door of the bathroom for at least the second time.

She was out there and Greg was utterly lost. What was up with him?

_She was out there._

What had Grissom been talking about?

_Sara was out there. _

_It.Was.Only.A.Nightmare._ Greg breathed out slowly.

Now she knocked another time. Soon she would treat to break open the door. Greg was sure that she was very well able to do that, and then he would be mincemeat.

He was almost ready to open the door, even ready to let her beat the living daylights out of him. Maybe he would get a clear head then; maybe he would know then what was up with him.

Sara called him from outside, but the tone of her voice surprised him. It was not angry or commanding as he had expected, but worried, anxious even. And that was what made him stand up and open the door slowly.

Sara stepped back a little, looking relieved for a short moment.

Greg was drawn between avoiding her gaze and the urgency to look at her. It had only been a nightmare, he told himself quietly again.

"What is it, Greg?" Sara asked now, frowning and Greg knew that he could not tell her. He did not want her to laugh at him because he had dreamt about them being together. He did not want to alarm her because of his nightmares of her being murdered.

"Nothing," he said, causing Sara's look to change into a clearly unbelieving one, one that told you to better tell her the truth.

Greg walked over to the small window in his kitchen, starring outside, still feeling Sara's gaze on him.

"Are you sure that you are okay?" she insisted to know.

"Why not?" he returned quietly.

"Greg," Sara sounded still worried. She was suddenly next to him, very close next to him, and made Greg wonder even more.

"Don't you remember what has happened?" Sara continued.

Greg felt chilly. _What has happened. _Grissom. He had said the same words. Greg shook his head in a desperate attempt to remember what everyone was talking about.

He turned around to Sara whose gaze seemed to pierce through him, though it softened when she saw his face.

"Please tell me what happened," he asked her on the risk of sounding as if he had lost his mind.

"And you will tell me what scared you, won't you?" Sara demanded softly, making Greg wonder if it had been so obvious.

He nodded silently.

"You should've gone to the hospital. I mean if you can't even remember-."

"Sara," Greg interrupted her, pleading.

She nodded. "Okay." She sat down on the next chair.

"When we were to work a scene yesterday, there was a violent storm," Sara began. "Do you remember that?" she wanted to know.

Oddly enough, Greg could recall the warnings they had received before leaving for the scene. He nodded and Sara continued. "There was a more than fragile house at the scene. The storm brought down some tiles and one of them crashed on you when we were just entering."

"Oh," Greg only said, though having now an explanation why his head was still aching as if it had been split into two.

Sara resumed her report and now that she was telling him everything, pictures seemed to come back into his head.

_He remembered the hard wind, was even able to recollect how the hood of Sara's rain jacket had been wafting behind her when they had made their way from the car to the entrance of the house._

_Then Sara leaning over him, looking down worried._

Her voice brought him back to the present.

"… so you refused to go to the hospital and I drove you home," she ended, having now only a small hint of 'I told you so.' in her tone.

Greg rubbed his head. It was a lot clearer now, the aching still there though.

Sara jumped up worriedly. "I'll drive you to the hospital," she said urgently at his doing.

"No," Greg held up his hands. "It's okay. I just… I just had a very bad night… and I think I own Grissom an excuse."

Sara looked at him questioningly, but let it go then, to his relief.

He knew that he had to tell her sooner or later of his fears and of his nightmares. She would insist upon it. And Greg had to admit that she was probably much too sober-minded to be frightened by a nightmare. There would be a time when he would have to tell her, but it was not now.

She came close to him once again, laying her arms around his back, giving him a short kiss that was clearly not the first one. She looked at him soberly.

"This is a dream," Greg said unbelieving.

"Felt more like a nightmare to me," Sara remarked quietly.

**End**


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